


thinking thoughts

by notebend



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 16:38:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19890988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notebend/pseuds/notebend
Summary: "I'm actually thinking.""About?""You."A moonlit dance takes a turn.





	thinking thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired by this WONDERFUL art by lil here on tumblr. please reblog and support their work!!
> 
> https://x0x-v4mp1r3-4lg0r1thm-x0x.tumblr.com/post/186427762068/200719-rarepair-time-whipped-cream-has
> 
> ty for kudos/comments!

"Easy now. Straighten up."

A voice so sweet could only belong to Whipped Cream Cookie, as equally saccharine as it's namesake. It seemed like only he could make rules and instruction sound like music to the ears. Hearing that lullaby-like voice was one of the highlights of these black cloaked dances, the background to the otherwise silent displace.

Under his breath, a wistful sigh escaped Vampire. The frame under his fingertips was so warm, so soft, so close. They itched to get a chance to hold elsewhere other than the waist. While it was true sometimes they locked hands for more intricate moves, he found himself daydreaming of those hands dipping to fall on the hips. Or better yet, against the cheek.

"Vampire?" Whipped Cream broke the silence that Vampire created by falling silent, staring towards him as his eyebrows arched upwards."Your concentration is loose tonight, is something the matter?" 

"Ah, well," Vampire began with hesitance before moving into silence. His slack posture stiffened, clutching Whipped Cream's waist. "I'm merely thinking. I have something on my mind."

"Do you now?" 

"Yes." The two forms began to slip into a dance, choreographed over the past few months. What started from Vampire approaching the ballet dancer to freshen up on his own skills turned into a daily rendezvous. Deep in the woods, amongst the trees which tips seem to blend into the blue of the sky, creating an overarching curtain to envelop the two dancers. Here, the only witness to the performance was their own reflections in the glistening water beside them.

"About what?" He questioned further, hand trailing Vampire's arms to enclose his palm. It was hard to answer when you're being rounded up and spun like a music box. 

"Thoughts."

"Vampire!" Whipped Cream exasperated while he tugged the taller cookie close. And almost, just almost, could Vampire feel a hitch in his breath. "You know that's not an actual answer." 

"But it is, dear," He reasoned. He was so close, too close. Their chests were pressed close, and Vampire gingerly looked away. That was what got him. After all this dancing, lifting, and moving as one, he began to long for it. Even outside of their midnight stage. "Don't we all deserve a moment to think?"

"Of course we do– I've been thinking a lot, myself."

Ah, an opportunity to deflect! "And what may that be about?"

At this point, neither seemed to realize their performance slowed into a simple sidestep, neither wishing to move away from the all encompassing warmth of their close forms.

"Well, as you would say it, thoughts."

"Hey-!" 

"Hm?"

"You cannot simply steal my line." Vampire pulled away, head cocking to the side while his traitorous ears fluttered. "It is mine." 

"Awh," Whipped Cream cooed, cupping the vampire's face to turn it his way. The cheek quickly grew warm in his grip. "Well I promise that next time I'll ask before borrowing. Which is was- not theft."

"I- b-borrowing-, yes-," Here he was, struggling to get a grip on his words from one act. In the back of his head, he scolded himself. There was no need to become so flustered at such a move. Have they've not been in close contact for but past months? He was overreacting and would repeat that as his montra. 

It would've been easy to believe too, if he didn't look back at Whipped Cream. The ballet dancer's eyes hooded and head tilt, as if he was admiring a piece of fine art in a museum. And perhaps he was. He was similarly quiet.

"Whipped, dear, what are you doing?" 

A moment of silence. "I'm... thinking."

"I thought you said you'd ask before borrowing my line."

"No, no," His head shook, before he began to grow in height. With a quick glance, Vampire noted he was tipping his toes. "I'm actually thinking."

"About…?"

"You." The rise reached a peak. Whipped Cream found himself leaning, leaning, leaning closer to Vampire before there was no space between them, no holy zone of space. Their bodies were a singularity more than separate entities. "I'm thinking about you."

The color steadily rose in Vampire's cheek and he swore his undead heart skipped a beat. "What a coincidence…"

Whipped Cream's gentleness wasn't to be confused with lack of intelligence. Vampire's subtle implication was enough for him to join their lips, starting a dance more tender than any they have practiced before. They melted together, swirling wine and sugar, creating a new taste adventure. 

When the spell finally broke, Whipped Cream pulled his face away, a crystalize smile spreading from eye to eye. "I've wanted to do that for awhile." Vampire could only nod, trying to fan his face from the increasing heat.

His shocked reaction clicked in the dancer's head and he began to flush as well, his embarrassment transforming into a laugh. "I was hoping I would've confessed more romantically."

"There's nothing more romantic than this," Vampire said, hand taking that acclaimed prize of grasping that sugary cheek, brushing against pink curls. He falls quiet, lips partings as he strokes the skin lightly. "So...you…like me?"

"No, Vampire darling," He hummed, pressing a kiss on each cheek, leaving a light stain of color. "I love you." 

Phwoom. There was no stopping the slamming of his heart in his chest or the flutter of his ears. He felt dazed, surprised to find himself slipping into the river of romance, too elated to fight the waves and instead sinking into the blush red water. 

"Well," He starts, eyebrows knitting together in thought before he finds what he's searching for in words. He takes Whipped Cream's hand, fingers locked together as his other arm finds itself looped on his waist. "Shall we dance, my love?"

"Forever and always." 

And amongst trees that stroked the sky, and amongst the liquid mirror running besides them, the lovers danced, for an audience of nobody and two.


End file.
